


Don't Open The Door

by ChatDuNoir



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Creepy, F/F, Halloween, Horror, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 02:21:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21171839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChatDuNoir/pseuds/ChatDuNoir
Summary: Emma Swan doesn't open the door on Halloween. Until she does.





	Don't Open The Door

”Trick or treat!”

Emma rolled her eyes as she briefly looked up from the book. Then she continued to do what she had done for most of the evening. Ignored the children voices outside. 

“Trick or treat!”

“Piss off,” Emma muttered quietly. And after a moment, the children did. Emma was once again peacefully alone and turned her attention back to the book in her lap. “Pet Sematary”. That was the closest thing she came to doing something spooky on Halloween. The tradition had never really applied to Emma. Not even when she was a kid. She had never been a fan of dressing up and running around to crave candy from people, and now that she was grown up, she wouldn’t dream of opening her door and give candy to spoiled little brats who already had more candy than they could ever eat. No fucking way. 

“Trick or treat!”

Emma groaned in annoyance. Seriously? How long could this be going on for? It was nearly dark outside. Shouldn’t those little brats be tugged away in their beds or something like that? 

“Trick or treat!”

Emma nearly held her breath as the children continued to knock on her door. She heard them complain when she didn’t open the door and gave them candy like she was supposed to, and then she heard the sound of something that sounded like a spray bottle hissing. What did those little demons do? Write something on her house? Spray shaving cream into her mailbox? She felt tempted to curse and thereby reveal that she was in fact home. Whatever they had done, Emma would definitely find a way to whoop their asses for it come morning. 

Finally, the little rascals gave up, and Emma sighed satisfied as she took another sip of her wine. Her phone chimed and she was willing to bet that it was Ruby sending snapchats from whatever wild Halloween party she was attending. Emma was glad she wasn’t there. All she wanted was a quiet night in with her book and her glass of wine. 

Emma turned page after page in the book, fully enjoying that there once again was quiet in her neighborhood. No more children banging on her door, greedily demanding candy. This was everything she could have wished for Halloween. She leaned back on the couch and positioned her feet on the coffee table. She was intending to heading out in the kitchen and pouring herself a second glass of wine, but then she was consumed by the book and decided to make popcorn later instead. Popcorn, wine, an unrealistic horror movie and then bed. Perfect. 

For around half an hour, Emma read steadily and ate her way through the scary book, and she was enjoying the quietness when it was suddenly broken by a sound. 

Knock-knock-knock!

Emma looked up from her book. She waited, expected to hear that dreaded “trick or treat!”, but it never came. Instead there was another knocking followed by a quiet: “Hello? Is anybody home?”

Emma quickly deduced that it was a boy who was knocking on her door. A little boy. The blonde gnashed her teeth. More Halloween games. She was NOT home. And she was NOT about to open the door just because the boy had used a different tactic than the ‘trick or treat’ crap. 

“Hello?” the little boy called again. “Hello? Is anybody home? Please?” the question was followed by a quiet sobbing sound. 

Okay, if this was a trick it was definitely a creative one. And a pretty cruel one too. But the thing was, it didn’t sound like a trick. Not really. To Emma, it sounded like there was an upset little boy standing on her doorstep. Maybe she was a bit of an Ebenezer Scrooge when it came to Halloween, but she couldn’t ignore this. 

She sat her glass of wine down on the coffee table, left her book spine up on the couch, and then she walked into the hallway to open the door. 

There was indeed a little boy standing on her porch. Ten years old at most. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and he was wearing a Peter Pan costume. 

“Yeah?” Emma said, and in the same breath: “I don’t have any candy, kid. So if that’s what you’re here for-“

“I can’t find my mom,” the little boy interrupted, voice trembling and tears splattering onto his cheeks. “We were out trick or treating together, but then we got separated, and now I can’t find her anymore!”

“Oh,” Emma said. Poor kid. “Then I suppose we better go and look for her, yeah? What’s your name, kid?” 

“Henry,” the little boy said. “My name is Henry. But I don’t think looking for her is a good idea.”

“Why not?” Emma asked. 

“’Cause we made a rule. If I ever got lost, I have to wait for her at the last place I remember, that way she’ll always know where to find me,” Henry explained. 

“That’s a good rule, kid,” Emma praised

“Can I come in and wait for her?” Henry asked and shivered. “It’s so cold tonight!” 

“Yeah, come in, kid,” Emma said, willingly stepping aside so Henry could come in. She couldn’t exactly leave him standing on the porch while he waited for his mom. She was cruel, but not that cruel. 

“Thanks,” Henry said and rubbed his hands together. 

“Do you want something to drink while you’re waiting for your mom?” Emma offered as she closed the front door again. 

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

Man, was he well raised or what? Emma chuckled as she turned around and went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and began listing items: “I’ve got milk, apple juice, orange juice, grape juice, pineapple juice. Does any of that fall in your taste, kid?”

“I like orange juice.”

“Okay, orange juice is it then,” Emma said briskly as she grabbed the carton of orange juice and a glass from the cupboard. 

“Thank you...... Emma.” 

Emma sat the glass down on the table with a much harder thud than intended. The hell was that? How did this kid know her name? She turned around, walked back into the living room where she found   
Henry standing in the center of the room. He had stopped rubbing his hands. 

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I said.... thank you, Emma.” Henry repeated. All traces of distress was completely absent from his voice. He looked up at her, and Emma stumbled backwards. Her back hit the wall and her stomach dropped. Henry’s eyes were completely black.

“Thank you for letting us in,” Henry said. His voice sounded soft and melodious now. Definitely not ten years old. 

“U-us?” Emma stuttered. “What do you mean us?” 

Henry lifted a pale finger and pointed to the far corner of the living room. “There’s my mom!” he happily announced with a high pitched giggle. 

The last thing Emma Swan saw was a frighteningly beautiful woman with dark hair and pitch black eyes coming charging towards her......


End file.
